Danse De Mort
by GeekLikeMe
Summary: Blunt had said this wasn't going to be dangerous. And honestly, Alex wasn't too surprised to find out that that wasn't the case. One moment his life is -once again- in danger, and suddenly he's in a warm, welcoming bed, safe and sound. Features K-Unit.
1. Danse De Mort 1

**_Danse De Mort_**

_Dance Of Death_**_  
_**

* * *

Alex still remembered the time when, waking up in the morning, all he worried about was what to wear and what he'd say to his long-time crush. And worrying about whether or not he'd have time to finish breakfast- that one was a biggie.

Of course, that was then. This was now. And now, Alex would give anything to go back. Back to that innocent age. But it was hard for him to imagine himself becoming innocent again when he was scaling the side of a seven-story building. Well, seven stories above ground, three underground. But that didn't calm his spirits any. Is was approximately eleven fifteen on a Friday that had gone well so far- Bingo Night for the Duke. It settled Alex's soul to know that, back at the dormitories, he was covered, just in case any of the Camp supervisors happened to check on them, though Alex didn't know why they would now, considering they hadn't before.

He was, once again, on a mission. And, like all the others, this one was centered around a psycho path who was ready to do whatever it took to get to his goal. Which, coincidentally, wasn't actually that large of a goal. It was a simple mission, theft of a church fund group that was the Duke's own in the first place. Duke Herrington, to be precise. Rich, handsome, and popular with people. He reminded him eerily of Damian Craig. And while that set his nerves in a cold state, he pushed forward.

The air bit at his skin, and the light breeze helped none. To think only seconds ago Alex had been so confident in his movements, and now he was frozen against the stone wall of the main building of the church camp (the only buildings were the three cabins for the children who attended the camp, the main building for Duke Herrington, and a church, more like a run down chapel), not knowing where to go except back. The window was right above him, and inside held everything he'd need to be able to get home successfully. All he needed to do was grab the information and go. That was it. Information- and evidence. Blunt had been specific, and startlingly considerate, as he'd told Alex that this was actually a low-down mission, nothing much, and Alex had been so glad to find out that it was true.

Back to the situation at hand, Alex was already stretching himself out as it was. What chance did he have to reach the window? This chance came only once a week, and Alex wouldn't be able to hide his cover for another week, that he was sure of. They were already suspicious, and Alex simply wanted to finish it off. One of Alex's feet was back, pushing against a stone so luckily pushed out of its place on the wall, both hands were gripping in between a crack between two large stones, only feet under the windowsill, and his last one was supporting his balance with the toe of his shoe wedged in another small crack. He could let that foot out and risk losing balance, or he could let the other foot off, and risk either smacking into the wall and losing his footing, or losing both footing altogether.

His eyes began searching the wall, looking for anything he could possibly use as leverage. And after a few minutes of searching, an idea struck him. There was a winow, not too far away, and only a little bit higher up from where he was standing. It was further away from the window he was trying to get inside, but it'd be a start, at least. He froze once again, gaining all strength and courage, and flung himself across the wall, landing nimbly on the windowsill. His right foot nearly slipped off, but thankfully, there were more cracks and loose stones around this window than the other. He leveled himself out, and froze as he heard muffled voices, coming closer, from inside. And, at the perfect moment, Alex threw his legs apart, onto two stones on either side of the window, pushing him up, just above the windowsill. And, lo behold, the window pane opened like any old fashioned window. He heard a woman's voice whining in a high voice "my, my, it's gotten hot! Open up some windows, would you, Marian?" Marian. The cook? Yes, that was her name. So he was near the kitchen? Alright, so he knew the area his target was in. Good.

Thankfully, Alex managed to stay hidden, and glancing up, he realized he was only a slight distance away from his target. He reached his hand out, almost desperately, and stopped mid-reach, calming himself. Panic and desperation would help him none. Haste made waste. He took a shaky breath, and continued his reach, the satisfying feeling of stone beneath his hand making him exhale. He slowly made his way onto the ledge and easily clambered inside, due to the fact that the window opened inward. He closed it behind him, and took a moment to look around without moving from his spot.

There was a large, oak wood bookcase, pushed to the spot a few feet right of the door. A desk sat in front of him, all drawers closed, any papers neatly in files. There were many picture frames hung on the walls, empty, without a picture inside the frames. Alex's eyes traced over the desk, and he shifted through the files, trying hard not to move anything too much. After almost ten minutes of searching, Alex gave up, and flopped back onto the black office chair. As he sat, the chair lowered, and Alex's weight pushed it back slightly. A rug underneath it shifted, and something flashed. Alex jumped up and snatched the miniscule silver key that sat under the rug. He brought it close to his face, inspecting it, twisting it in his lithe fingers, and feeling around the desk. All of the ten drawers had keyholes. '_Damn it_,' Alex thought. '_Which one?'_

He didn't have _time _to be playing Professor Layton. But he supposed it was all he could to, and the sooner he did it, the sooner he'd be able to leave, if this was the information he was looking for. He stuck the key in the hole, and came up short, barely even being able to twist it. He moved quickly to the second one, and got the same result. He continued this process, all the way up to lock number seven, and was able to twist it about half way. That had to mean something, didn't it?

But as he twisted the key into the eighth lock, he came up shorter than the other times. "Shit." Alex muttered angrily, tempted to throw the key at the opposite wall. And he probably would've, if it hadn't been for the sound of a doorknob twisting. The desk wasn't some sort of movie desk, with a small area in the middle for him to cuddle up in to hide from whoever was coming in. And what was worse was that he had absolutely no time to launch out from behind the desk and find a place to curl up and try not to be seen. So, in panic, Alex threw himself at the window, pushing it, getting ready to launch himself out-

It opened inwards.

_Haste Makes Waste._

It only took that one moment of fault, that one second of a stupid mistake, for the door to swing open, and for Alex to be there, hands against the panes of the window, pushing, even though the window only opened inwards. Alex had made one of the most idiotic mistakes of his whole spying fiasco, and there was no doubt he was going to pay for it. When he turned, he was met with a sight he had been afraid of seeing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd been hoping it would just be one of the maids that worked here in the main building of the camp, or something of the sort, but instead, it was a large, burly man on the right who was bald and sporting a sneer on his crooked mouth, a young, middle aged woman in the middle with hair stolen from a torch and gray eyes that were so sharp Alex had to do an intake of breath, and a tall, built man on the left with a buzz cut and a scar from the corner of his mouth to his right temple. They looked like characters right from a horror, sci-fi mystery novel. Not people Alex was interested in meeting.

And the first thing that happened happened all too quickly for Alex's tastes. The two men shot forward, and before Alex could blink, or even press the finger-print detectable MI6 Emergency button he had on the inside of his chest pocket of his shirt, the two men came jumping at him. He felt himself slam back, against the window, and knew instantly at the pain that shot through the back of his head that he'd hit it on the knob-like handle on the window that was used to unlock and open it. And only seconds after his daze from that bump was gone, another problem arose as BuzzCut brought his elbow down, atop Alex's head. And without another second, he passed from the world of the living to a purgatory-like unconsciousness. No slow feinting. Just instant out.

* * *

_**FIRST OF ALL. THIS STORY WILL TALK ABOUT RELIGIOUS TOPICS. I'M SAYING THIS NOW, SO THAT IT WILL AVOID ANY RELIGIOUS BASHING AND/OR COMPLAINTS. SO DON'T COMPLAIN, 'CAUSE I'M BEING THE BIG BAD RESPONSIBLE WRITER HERE.**_

So, okay. :D That's up and over with. My first story on here, and my first Alex Rider fanfiction, so I hope I'm not doing too bad. I mean, sure, I probably have a few mistakes in this thing alone. BUT I'm only in seventh grade, so I dont think me writing like a pro will matter much. Plus, I'm the type of author who writes for herself, so comments like 'you should do this' and such dont really get to me. I'll write what it think. :)

And I just recently started taking French, so that explains the title. Danse de Mort; Dance Of Death. Thought it fit Alex Rider, somehow. SO ANYWAY. Here's my story. :D Review and I'll love you forever. 3

OH AND ALSO. Here's the order I went through this series: I watched Stormbreaker the movie, didn't want to read the book, then read all of the books. So if I make any Stormbreaker references from the MOVIE and not from the BOOK, then don't freak out.

So yeah. :D Hope you like it. 3 And have you guys heard that there's going to be two more books to the series? Might be just a rumor, but I've been told it's tru~ue~ ;D

_GODSPEED_


	2. Danse De Mort 2

The first thing Alex was aware of was the pain. As the numbness faded, he could feel the aches coming. His head, his legs, his back. Even his eyes felt dry and irritated. He had made a mistake. Such a stupid mistake that it wasn't even worth making, but he'd made it, and he felt not only like an idiot, but confused. Blunt, all this time, had said 'Alex can do it'. He'd always expected Alex to come out on top. What now, now that he was most definitely not on top?

No, Alex thought, not yet. Giving up was a last resort, a resort he wouldn't want to low to. He pushed himself up from where he lay using his forearms, not surprised that he lay in a room not unlike a confinement room. No windows, one door, and judging by how the intense cold seemed to radiate off of the walls and floor, and even the ceiling, the room he was in was underground. There was one bunk bed that didn't even deserve the title of 'bed', due to the mattress well worn and even deadly looking blood stains, and a steel sink, across from the bed. Next to the sink, there was a toilet, that looked more like a port-a-potty toilet than one with any sewage. And finally, Alex looked down at himself.

Nothing too bad. Minor cuts on his legs, and his hand was bleeding from a mild gash, but that wasn't important. His head was throbbing, but reaching up, he felt no blood, so concluded it as unimportant. He was wearing the same clothes as before, and in a rush, his hands flung up, pushing the spot the MI6 Alert Button was supposed to be. _Supposed _to be. It wasn't there anymore. He couldn't feel the cold metal pressing against his chest. They'd found it, he knew. They'd searched him, and they'd taken it. And now, he was left with no means to call in for back up.

Alex felt around his back thigh, his high hopes fading as he felt nothing but thigh. So they'd taken his weapons, too. So what to do? As he did a second sweep of the room, the door swung open, startling Alex enough to make him jump and hit his hip on the bed. It rocked, only connected to two chains that hung on the ceiling, and when it hit the wall, there was an odd, hollow sound. Alex wanted to investigate further, but the 'Elephants in the room' stopped him from doing so as they proceeded forward, grabbing his forearms roughly. Alex looked up at the guards that had knocked him out back at the camp as they half carried, half dragged him out of the room. Outside of the room, there was only a simple corridor. His door was at the end of a long, stretching hallway, and at the end, he saw a staircase looking dangerously steep. Thankfully, it was going up and not further into the Earth's crust.

"I am Bront," The skinhead said in a quick, cut tone, "that is Randen. You will not escape. You will not attempt to escape."

_More like Brontosaurus_, Alex thought snidely, eying his unusually tall neck and beefy legs, and before he could reply asking why the man was even telling Alex their names, the buzzcut beat him to it.

"Bet'cha want to know why you're here, eh, lad?" Due to Randen's heavy, Irish accent, it took Alex a moment to process what he was being told.

"That would be quite helpful, thanks," Alex said in a refined tone as they began to climb the staircase. He had to keep up to ensure his safety. The vision of him falling, pulling the two impossibly large men down with him, and landing at the bottom of an unintentional dog pile made him shudder alone. He didn't want it to occur.

"We're not gonna tell ya!" The man sneered, and laughed as if someone had just told the most hilarious joke he'd ever heard. His face even turned red, and Alex thought he saw the whiff of a tear on the corner of his eye. They pushed open the door at the top of the staircase, and Alex found himself in a room shaped like a circle, with three doors. He felt like he was in a Harry Potter book. The guards pushed open the door on his far left, and Alex stumbled into another room. Immediately, he was engulfed in whiteness. White lights, white walls, white everything. His eyes stung more than they already had. There was a white table, with two white chairs, completely opposite of each other. And, in one chair, sat a middle aged man who smiled with deadly familiarity.

"Hello," Duke Harrington said, sitting with his hands clasped together on the white table. His bracelet was pure black. "Welcome, Mr._ Ryan Burgeron_." He spoke the name with sarcasm, and Alex's body dropped ten degrees. He gestured to the seat across from him, and smiled. "Come, sit, talk. We've a lot to talk about, I'd say."

The door behind him slammed, and a feeling of unease settled in Alex's stomach. He stared at the man, before going and sitting down. There wasn't much he could do at the moment, anyway.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since that time in the dining hall," Harrington was referring to when Alex had gone up to discreetly inspect the kitchen, feeling an odd feeling about the food they'd been serving, and had been successful in not getting caught until Harrington had surprised him, and he'd flung a plastic knife at the wall next to the man's head. That alone had nearly given him away. "I do say, you've great aim. Have I told you that? I don't believe I did."

"You did." Alex mumbled, trying to find any emotion other than pleasant calmness in the older male's face.

"Have you ever heard of the story of the innocent jailing?" Harrington asked thoughtfully, and when Alex shook his head, he broke out into a smile. "It is actually quite the depressing story." _Why're you smiling, then?_ Alex thought. "It's about a boy -a curious boy- who wandered into his neighbor's yards, and there he found many things. Things he wasn't supposed to know. And when the neighbors found out the boy had been lurking in their yards, do you know what they did? They sent him to jail for trespassing and vandalism. Poor boy spent years in jail for his simple curiosity." There was a pregnant pause, and suddenly Harrington's rumbling laugh sounded. "However, I'd never believe that 'curiosity killed the kitten' nonsense. Oh, no. Curiosity didn't kill it," suddenly, the atmosphere in the white room turned black, and Harrington's eyes boring into Alex's seemed to kill, "curiosity simply put it in its place."

Another pause.

_Thud-ud. Thud-ud. Thud-ud._

Alex's heartbeat was loud, and he worried that Harrington would hear it. Harrington went on relentlessly, the deadly feeling of the room turning friendly and pleasant once more.

"Depressing, it is. Isn't it? It is." He seemed to be talking to himself. Alex hadn't had to say much, and yet Harrington was still speaking so wordily. Then again, being a psycho with evil intentions could do that to you, couldn't it? "You know, Alex, you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age. Brave, strong, and good on the looks, too." He winked at Alex. "I wondered what a handsome, intelligent boy like you was doing here, at a Church Camp. Then again, many mindlessly believe in religions- of all sorts."

"My family is very religious." Alex said, hoping that keeping up the charade as long as possible was good.

"_Was_." The man corrected him, and Alex felt his blood run cold. The eyes were back, the eyes that bore into more than Alex's fears. "Your family _was_ very religious. I believe your parents died in a, what was it... Plane crash? And, oh, poor Ryan's-" once more, the name was spoke with malice, with a tinge of scorn and scoff, "-uncle died in a car crash, too. You know that old saying? 'To lose one loved one is a tragedy. To lose two is careless. To lose three means you shouldn't be loved.' Or something of the sort. Do you know of it?"

Alex's jaw had gone tight, and he had the overwhelming urge to leap across the table and show him just who in this room was being careless. But he suppressed it, feeling confidently that the two guards were right outside the door. And he also felt that they didn't like him very much. No need to give them any excuses to detest him even more.

"Listen," Harrington said, suddenly serious. Alex had the feeling he had three personalities to him. "I know you're a spy. I know you work for MI6. I took your only access to contact them away. And now, you're stuck. So how about we make this as painless as possible and do a 50-50? You help us out, we don't kill you. I think it sounds fair." When Alex didn't respond, Harrington smiled. "Now, then. What's your real name, Mr. Spy?"

"It's really Ryan Burgeron, sir." Alex said, honestly and innocently as he could muster.

Harrington quirked a fine, russet brow and tapped the table with his index finger. It sounded like a familiar tune. "I think we both know that's not true." Alex didn't reply. Harrington sighed once more, his fingers tapping still. "I'm being generous, you know. I could very well have you strapped down and tortured until I've words from you. But I'm being generous. All I'm trying to do is get information. Give it to me, it guarantees your safety. Refuse, and you wont have any safety to be guaranteed of."

The tune was ever so familiar. Alex couldn't place it. He'd been a fan of classical music in a point of his life when he was about eleven, but he still couldn't quite recognize whatever tune this man was tapping. Why was it so familiar?

At Alex's silence, Harrington sighed. "All right, then. I suppose this is trying for you, anyway. You might as well get some rest." He smiled once more, yet this one wasn't laced with calmness. "Go, sleep, and when you wake, _tell_."

And as Alex was leaving the white room, it hit him. Harrington's tapping. He knew the song. Knew it like day. And the thought that he'd been tapping it gave Alex chills. He remembered the sound, unclipped nails tapping against metal...

_Funeral March._


	3. Danse De Mort 3

Alex was the kind of boy who never had any trouble calming himself down in a stressful situation. He had the skill to keep his head and think logically, instead of simply panicking. That was an invaluable skill for his spy persona- he didn't much like calling it a job.

And at the moment, keeping his head was all he could afford to do. It had been at least an hour since he'd been tossed back in his cell, and Brontosaurus and Randen -Alex hadn't come up with a snappy nickname for the man yet- hadn't come back even once. There wasn't any way out of the cell, as he'd identified before, but he had definitely not forgotten about the hollow sound the wall next to his bed had made. He could of course check again, but say the wall collapsed- what would he do when Brontosaurus and Randen came back? He wouldn't possibly have a convincing enough explanation for them if the wall really did fall in on itself. If he didn't, he could be tormenting himself- for all he knew, it could be a -be the only- way out, and he'd be missing it by a mile if he didn't do anything.

_Stop thinking 'what if',_ Alex thought irritably, _what are the facts?_

Okay. Easy enough. So he knew he was in some sort of building. He could be anywhere, honestly. He could be in the Duke's home, or he could be out of the camp completely. He needed to figure out where exactly he was before jumping to conclusions. It should be mid-day by then, but that didn't help Alex much, especially without knowing where he was. He had no weapons. He had no contact with the outside world. And he was also at complete loss as to who all he was here with. Brontosaurus, Randen, and Herrington. What else? Well, maybe there were more people being held here. Maybe he wasn't the only one. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. But Alex knew better than to underestimate a situation- he'd fallen into the habit of overestimating.

As he thought of this, Alex was sitting opposite of the door, back against the wall. What had Blunt said, again? "This is a very innocuous mission, Alex." Wasn't that it? Thinking about it, Alex wanted to hit something. Hard.

Before he could act on this, however, the door swung open, revealing the looming figures of Brontosaurus and Randen. "C'mere, boy!" Alex recognized Randen's voice, but couldn't seem to make out their expressions, due to the fact that the light in the corridor behind them seemed to have intensified -or was that because he'd been in the dark for so long?- and that they were silhouetted against it. Alex squinted, and finally made himself bring up a hand to shield his eyes.

"Huh?" Was all he got out before one of them shot forward and grabbed his arm, harshly pulling him forward. Alex struggled to keep up, and now in the light, he had no doubt he was in trouble of going blind. "Wait! Hold on!" Alex pleaded with them. Light stabbed at his eyes, and if anything, their paces quickened. They practically dragged him up the stairs and through the pain in his head, Alex brought himself to his senses, and as he was being dragged, he forced his head to swivel this way and that, making sense of where he was being dragged, what path. Out of the cell, up the stairs, take a right, take a left, third door on the right... He thought through the pain, and suddenly, the three males were in a room, large and glamorous, and were heading down a staircase looking like the staircase of the Titanic. They exited two grand doors and -with a jolt of surprise- Alex realized they were outside. The light had definitely decreased since they'd exited his cell, but not only was it bright outside, it was incredibly hot. Alex had gone from the cold, dark confines of his cell room to the wide open, hot, bloody bright outside world in less than two minutes, it seemed. He was sure that wasn't good for his health. It couldn't have been.

Once he got used to the light -which, mind you, wasn't easy- Alex was able to see that he was still being dragged, but dragged toward a chapel- the camp's chapel. Looking back, Alex recognized the Duke's house. He wanted to ask what was going on, but knew he'd get no answer. So instead, he tried his best to keep up.

Brontosaurus threw the chapel doors open and strode inside, and for a moment, Alex was suspended in air, having been tossed like a rag doll into the building. Swiftly, Randen and Brontosaurus fled the chapel, closing the doors quickly, as if they were scared or intimidated. Alex looked up and spotted the figure of Duke Herrington, the edges of his shape alit lightly by the light of the candles. No electricity in churches- of course. Not this one, it seemed, at least. But, as Alex thought, he began to smell something- something he couldn't distinguish. It didn't necessarily have a scent, but more of an impact on his sense of smell.

"Alex Rider," without turning, the Duke spoke, sounding startlingly amused. "Age fourteen. British schoolboy." Alex heard him give a wispy laugh. "Isn't that funny? I'd almost been duped by a British schoolboy. Good thing you're popular to people who know where to look."

Alex held his breath and scrambled up without a word, backing up. The scene before him- it was familiar. Sheep skins lay in piles, randomly around the room, and a picture of- who was that? Alex couldn't familiarize him, but it was a painting of a man, holding a boy down with a dagger to his throat and looking up with a desperate expression at a man with wings of an angel. Alex frowned, and backed up until he felt the door behind him. He worked to push it open, but somehow, without having to try, he knew that Brontosaurus and Randen were on the other side, holding it closed.

The Duke turned, and Alex sucked in his breath, seeing the twisted smile on the man's face. "Come here, Alex Rider, and see for yourself what ally I have on my side. You'll want to know- he's the strongest ally anyone will ever get." As Alex refused to advance, the man's face morphed into a furious expression, and Alex found his insides frozen. "_Get over here, NOW_!"

Alex's legs moved on their own, carrying him to where the Duke was standing. The Duke smiled, and Alex suddenly wanted to see MI6 more than he had ever wanted to see them before.

The Duke pointed to the wall, at the picture Alex had been trying to identify before. "Do you know who that is, Alex Rider?" The Duke pointed to the man clutching the sheep. Alex shook his head, trusting his voice less than he trusted the Duke. "That is Abraham, and do you know what he's doing? He's about to sacrifice his son. But look at that, the angel Gabriel, come to the boy's savior. The details of what happened after that mean nothing to me. What I'm trying to say, dear Alex Rider, is that God is a man who cherishes sacrifices. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Alex's limbs were frozen. Inside, he felt warm, to the point where he expected his skin to burst into flames at any moment, but outside, he felt like he was standing in the arctic in the nude. Alex took in a shakey breath. He knew this story. Abraham, eponymous father of the Abrahamic religions, nearly sacrificed his son before the Angel Gabriel came down and told him that God would accept a sheep for sacrifice. "But in the end, a sheep was what was killed. Not a person." Alex breathed, and cursed his shakey voice.

"Well, now," The Duke smiled, and Alex shivered. "Not everybody plays by the rules."

Sucking in a breath through his nose, Alex coughed. _Wait a minute_. Alex thought, feeling wobbly on his feet. The heat inside his body had grown, and his skin felt so cold he was beginning to freeze up. Smelling strongly one more time, Alex realized what was happening. He fell to his knees, and then forward, onto his stomach. His head faced right, and he was incredibly conscious of the wooden panels laying silently underneath him. As if through a tunnel, Alex heard the thudding of the Duke's shoes against the panels.

* * *

**AGAIN, I WANT NOTHING BUT TO KEEP PEACE BETWEEN RELIGIONS. _PLEASE DO NOT REVIEW IF YOU'RE GOING TO BASH OR START AN ARGUMENT ABOUT ANY RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS._ THANKS A BUNCH.**

So, okay. :D Thanks for reading the bold and underlined/and italic words. And try to understand that insulting any religion or shining any religion in a bad light wasn't my intention. My class is just learning about religions and such in Southwest Asia and I got this idea, so I put it into motion. Yadda yadda. Yackity yack.

ANYWAY. Thanks for reading this chapter! :D Read and Review, have a wonderful day. KAYTHAAANKS~

OH. And I realized I made a few mistakes in the last chapter, and this is actually my first time writing an Alex Rider fanfiction, so I hope I'm doing it right. :D ANYWAY. Let's just pretend those little mistakes didn't happen, eh~? ;DDD

AND ONE MORE THING BEFORE I SHUT UP. I tweaked the summary a bit, because suddenly I'm loving the K-Unit more than I did before, so it'd do you all good to read that unless you're totally fine with reading whatever. :D Don't say I didn't tell ya.


	4. Danse De Mort 4

Alex was aware of the covers over his body, and the feint scent of lilac radiating off of his pillow, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. There was something incredibly uplifting about even just the way he was lying in the bed. When he'd woken in the bed back in his mission in Skeleton Key, he'd been lying perfectly straight, arms above the blanket, positioned at his sides, and barely a hair out of place. He way he was lying now, with half of his face pressed into the lilac scented pillow, on his side with his hands under his pillow, feeling his hair tickling his cheeks, Alex was given an odd sense of security.

Leisurely, Alex opened his eyes, and was only mildly surprised at the sight before him. He was face to face with a pink teddy bear, hearts scattered across its fur. Looking past the bear, he identified the magenta walls of the room and the neon pink sheets covering him up to his chin. There were stickers on the walls, of princesses and Disney characters Alex faintly remembered watching when he was- what, five? Six?

While lying in a young girl's -or that's what it looked like- room, Alex couldn't find a good enough explanation. He'd passed out in the claws of a very much psychotic Duke Harrington, and awoke in the comforts of a little girl's room. He couldn't piece it together. None of it.

With a frustrated sigh, Alex rolled over to his other side -duly noting his tight limbs- and this time, he was met with rosy cheeks, wide, curious eyes, and a big, crooked grin.

With a jolt and a gasp, Alex jerked backwards, feeling the pink teddy bear against his back as he stared at the little girl in front of him. "Hello!" she exclaimed, and Alex certainly heard the tinge of a five year old tone in her greeting.

Alex opened his mouth, but it turned out he was unable to reply. There was a little girl he'd never seen in his life sitting next to him, acting like she'd known him all his life.

In a single, sudden movement, the little girl threw herself away from the bed, prancing out the open door and into the hallway, but not going out of sight. "Uncle James, uncle James! He's awake!" Quickly, Alex went through his mind. What James did he know? He knew the one from Point Blanc, but that was it. Alex heard the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs, and was slightly startled that the footsteps were coming at full speed.

Then, suddenly, arriving in the doorway was a man who took up nearly the whole door frame. His skin was a bit dark, and his hair was cut short, but looked like it'd been grown out from a previous cut- a buzz cut, maybe. The man's dark eyes were hard, and he strode over to the bedside, staring down at Alex. He uttered only one word, but it was a word that gave Alex a whole new perspective on what had been done.

"Cub."

Alex sucked in his breath. The nickname brought back memories of Breacon Beacons. And who had called him Cub? Wolf, Eagle, Fox, and Snake -this was undoubtedly Wolf, with the gruff tone of his voice- his so-called team mates. He'd thought team mates were supposed to be closer than family, but obviously, he was proved wrong at that camp. But back to the point- Alex was known as Cub to only them. They were on his side. Did that mean MI6 had sent the K-Unit in for back-up? But how had they known? Alex hadn't even had time to press the bloody button in his pocket, nonetheless contact them in any other which way. _How_? None of this made sense. And even if they had been sent in, where was Duke Harrington? Where were Randen and Bront? And who was that woman with the firey red hair? He'd not seen her after their one encounter in Harrington's office. None of this made sense. He was so confused. A sudden slam in his head, like a rail spike being drilled into his temple, Alex felt his head pulse with pain. He clutched it and winced, swallowing the sudden metallic taste in his mouth.

"Calm down," Wolf muttered, and watched the small girl jump up on the bed next to Alex.

"I'm Rebecca!" She said in her innocent tone. Alex felt something in his chest- a pang- as he stared at her, so full of life and joy. He was jealous. Jealous- of a little girl? _There must be something wrong with me_, he thought. But he knew why. He was staring at a child. Someone who knew only ignorance, without a care in the world. He wanted that. And he wasn't going to get it any time soon. So, he tried to fight back his feeling of envy, and smiled weakly at her.

"I'm-"

"Cub? Isn't that your name? That's a funny name!" She giggled, and Alex shook his head.

"No, no," He said, feeling a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes grow on his face, "my name is Alex. Not Cub." He felt as if he were taking a whole new breath of air, especially when he saw Wolf mouth "Alex" out of the corner of his eye. Alex looked around. "Where am I?"

"Becca," Wolf said quietly, lifting the girl off the bed, "go wait downstairs with Uncle Ben and the others." Uncle Ben? That could only be Ben Daniels. But he wasn't with the K-Unit anymore- why would he be here?

The girl pranced out, and Wolf sat in the small chair next to the bed Alex lay in. In any other situation, Alex probably would have laughed at seeing Wolf, a muscular soldier, sitting in a small, pink chair fit for a tea party. Alex felt sorry for the chair.

"Okay, listen," Wolf said after a moment of uncomfortable silence, "in a few minutes, lunch will be ready. You'll come downstairs and you'll tell us just what the bloody hell we just saved your ass from. Got it?"

Alex was tempted to tell Wolf to bug off and just leave him be while he try to sort out his bearings, but due to the now dulled pain in his head, he didn't think that was such a good idea anymore. So, instead, he went with, "How long have I been out?"

Wolf paused before answering. "A week. Give or take a day."

"... Where's Harrington?"

The room was filled with a silence, and Wolf turned briskly. "Come down in a few minutes." He muttered, and left Alex sitting in the stark pink room, hands clutching the pink bedsheets a little too tight.

* * *

**SO.**

**Hope I got Wolf's character right. I'm a sucker for 'im, so I hope I can write his personality, too. :'D I felt like I was making him a little too rough around the edges, but then again, the other ways I wrote him, he sounded like a poof, so I decided to keep this one. xD**

**HOPE YUU LIKED IT.**

**Oh, and I tried not to forget anything this time. I feel like there's an overwhelming of questions asked and not answered in this chapter, so I'll hopefully answer those in some kind of orderly fashion over time. :'D THANKS FOR READING.  
**


	5. Danse De Mort 5

Alex stared at himself in the mirror, frowning in disarray. His skin was nearly unblemished. He'd have expected at least a bruise or a scratch or some kind of mark to show and prove that Harrington had done _something_, but no such thing fell upon his body. What exactly had gone on in the camp after he'd passed out? Most importantly, _where was Harrington_?

He had so many questions, but with a sigh, he forced his mind away from the matter. Shifting his feet on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor (he'd spent at least five minutes searching for the god damned room when it had been simply across the hall) Alex turned on the faucet and washed the sweat from his face. Why was it so _hot_ in here? Stepping into the hallway, Alex wiped his face on his sleeve. He'd woken up wearing a gray T-shirt and a pair of baggy, navy sweatpants, which he hadn't noticed he'd been wearing until he looked into the bathroom mirror. Glancing at the staircase placed so conveniently a few feet away from the bathroom, Alex wondered how long until Wolf would come upstairs and drag him down.

Deciding he might as well not let it get to that point, Alec ran a hand over his face and sighed, starting toward the staircase. It occurred to him that ever since he'd woken up, he'd been feeling a bit odd- muddled. He hadn't noticed until he'd gotten up to walk around, but realized every time he moved too quickly, the edges of his vision would blur like a camera focusing. His head felt like it weighed one thousand pounds instead of ten.

Leisurely, Alex ascended the stairs, slow to make a note of the architecture and space -instinctively- before heading into where the commotion of chortles and colloquy seemed to blare from. They were talking oddly loudly, weren't they? At first, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at its inhabitants.

Wolf's head was ducked inside the fridge, and his hands pushed things aside in a search for something. Leaning against the counter next to the fridge was the ever so familiar Ben Daniels, who Alex had seen almost three months earlier. He seemed to be fidgeting with a plastic knife, his eyes elsewhere. Sitting at a small table near the door, Alex laid eyes upon a man with a large resemblance to Eagle- all except for the large, friendly smile on the man's face. He was chatting animatedly to a man Alex could only identify as Snake, who seemed to only half be paying attention to Eagle. His eyes had bags underneath them, Alex noticed, and he kept looking at the clock with a worried expression. Alex's eyes moved to the last person in the room, who sat next to Snake. Ice settled in his stomach, and stupefaction blinded his mind as a pair of slicing, conception-swarmed eyes stared right back at him. A smirk slid across red lips.

Unconsciously, his eyes still trained on the pair, Alex stepped further into the room. All eyes snapped his way, and even Wolf, noticing the tension, raised his head. Eagle cut off in the middle of a word. For a split second, Alex wondered how to go about demanding to know why _this person_ was here, but was beat to any sort of conversation.

"Alex," Snake said with a hint of concern in his voice, and Alec tore his eyes away from the smirking person to look at him. Eyes narrowing slightly, Alex used his expression to ask the obvious question. "Ah- Wolf and Fox told us your name."

Alex glanced at Fox and Wolf, and while Wolf turned away with disinterest, Fox smiled a smile that told him that nothing else about him had been leaked to the others. Though, the smile didn't make Alex feel any less exposed, standing in the middle of the room with the K-Unit and the stranger looking at him expectantly.

"Feelin' any better there, Cub?" Eagle spoke up with a teasing tone, and when Alex looked over at him, he noticed Eagle's smile had returned.

Answering a question with a question, Alex got to the point; he wasn't up for a session of "beat around the bush". "Why is she here?" He pointedly looked at the woman sitting next to Snake, and her smirk widened into an amused smile. She stood before anyone else could answer for her, and walked toward Alex. He was tempted to back away, but refused the urge, even as the woman -who was nearly a head taller than him- stood uncomfortably close to him. He could feel her breath -which smelled like cherry bubblegum- ghost across his face, and he frowned, not liking the height difference.

"My name," the woman said, "is Agent Jessamine Cadden. It seems you remember me." Alex narrowed his eyes.

"You were the one," Alex said in a low voice, "who got me kidnapped, right?" He didn't know why he was being so hostile towards the woman. She just seemed so... so _wrong_. So out of place. She didn't belong in this kitchen, talking to him as if Alex was a friend- a comrade.

Jessamine smiled and laughed. "All in a day's work, Mr. Rider." Flicking a portion of her frizzy, red hair behind her shoulder with a neatly manicured hand, her eyes twinkled like diamonds- like two gray opals. She held out her hand, and cocked her head slightly. "Its very nice to formally meet you, Alex."

Without taking her hand, Alex nodded, saying nothing. He couldn't shake the feeling- the feeling that something just wasn't right here.

"We were waiting for you to come down so we could talk," Fox spoke up, and Alex glanced at him, immediately feeling that trust and bond in his heart. When he glanced back at the woman, he realized, the ice in his stomach seemed to raise to his chest. Alex nodded.

"I'm here now. So let's talk." Sitting across from Eagle and Snake, Alex sat up straight, his elbows resting on the edges of the table. His expression passive, Alex watched as the woman took her place back by Snake. Wolf stayed where he was, and Fox placed the plastic spoon back on the counter, taking a seat next to Eagle.

"You're probably confused," Fox said, and Alex couldn't help but snort, "so we're going to explain it to you really quickly. We don't want to confuse you-"

"First," Snake interrupted impatiently, "how are you feeling?"

Alex stared at him.

"I mean, are you nauseous? Hows your head? And your muscles?"

Opening his mouth, Alex didn't say anything. And then, after a moments hesitation, he asked, "I'm sorry- why're you being nice to me? Last I checked, I was the 'rich kid who wanted to play soldier.' Right?"

Rolling his eyes, Snake sighed impatiently. "Just answer the question, Alex." Seeing Alex's look, Snake added, "Please."

"My head feels heavy, and my visions a little blurry. Why is that?"

"Those candles had a chemical in them- it'll tamper with you for a few more hours. Just- if you feel any worse than you do now, tell me. Okay?"

Alex nodded. "My turn," Fox spoke up again. "So, Jessamine was an undercover agent at the camp. Her job was to sneak into Harrington's little group of evildoers-" Alex couldn't help but raise his eyebrow, "-and gain their trust, successfully becoming one of them. Then, you were sent in as a sort of... a sort of decoy, I guess. She helped in your capture because she had become incredibly close to Harrington- as an act, still, however." Fox paused, watching Alex's expression carefully.

"... Go on." Alex muttered as Fox stopped talking, and with a sigh, Fox did.

"Harrington brought you out of your cell without notifying Jessamine, and by the time she got there, you'd passed out, and Harrington was- um, what was it you said, again?"

Jessamine took up the offer to speak without hesitation. "You most likely heard his small speech about sacrifices and God being on his side, hm?" When Alex failed to nod but only mumble a yes, Jessamine sighed and went on. "Recited the same thing to me when he first told me about his little plan, he did. Harrington had told me he'd not do anything to you yet; he said, 'he was waiting for the right opportunity, and this wasn't it'. But I suppose it was stupid to expect him to be honest to me. When I got the the chapel, you were on the ground, and he above you, a knife in his hands. Bront and Renden let me in easily, seeing as I was a welcome member of the team then. I didn't hesitate to grab the closet thing to me -a lit candelabra, if I remember correctly- and knock him cold with it. I used my own reinforcement contact device to call in these fine young gentlemen here."

"How old are you?" Alex asked, and the K-Unit looked at him, shocked he would ask that question of a woman. But instead of looking offended or sheepish, she smiled in amusement.

"I'm twenty seven. Going on twenty eight in -what, three and a half months, I believe."

Alex was silent, staring at her through dull eyes, before he spoke up once more. "If what you say is true," he said quietly, but clearly, "then tell me honestly; did Harrington get away?"

Nodding, Jessamine summoned a look of pure resentment as she glared at the table. "We could have stopped him, but apparently I didn't knock him hard enough. He got away, the bastard. However, we did get Bront and Renden for questioning."

A silence settled over the room. Wolf had gone tense, looking angry; _probably at failing a mission_, Alex thought. He knew how much pride Wolf had. Fox had turned his gaze to the floor, and both Eagle and Snake were fiddling with their thumbs. Jessamine looked stony, her eyes far away, as if reliving the experience. And, breaking the silence, Alex's stomach grumbled loudly. All eyes turned to him, and smiles broke out on Fox and Eagle's faces.

"If you want," Fox said cooperatively, "I can make breakfast. You must be starved."

Alex nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice." He answered, and with one final look around the table, eyes lingering on Jessamine for a second longer than the others, Alex stood to help make breakfast.

* * *

Okay, so after reading the reviews -which I _really_ appreciated you guys taking the time to do, ;) - I felt like some needed to be answered.

Assistant-To-Hermes; No, there isn't going to be slash. Sorry- I'm dedicating this story to a completely straight nature. I'm actually focusing on writing a story without too many big mistakes in the plot. xD 'Cause I tend to forget things and add different things in a lot of my writing, so I'm trying to improve that. I _am_ into slash, though, so if you want to check out my other stories, you'll find other slash. None of it is AR slash, but they're slash, all the same. I've only got three stories now, so that's all I have to offer. xD

Ash Veran; Hopefully I explained it well enough in this chapter. :) You see, I went directly from Alex being with Harrington to Alex being at Wolf's home because I like having a bit of mystery in my stories; so if something in the story isn't answered in three or four chapters, then I'll have forgotten to put it in. But thanks for asking, I've been wanting to say that but kept forgetting to! xDD

Thanks a bunch for reading, you guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)


End file.
